


Afraid To Hold

by Galadriel1010



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Angst, Death, M/M, Public Display of Affection, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-02
Updated: 2010-10-02
Packaged: 2017-10-12 08:56:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/123153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galadriel1010/pseuds/Galadriel1010
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ianto still has reservations and fears about his and Jack's relationship, which come between them even when it matters the most</p>
            </blockquote>





	Afraid To Hold

British society was still getting over its issues with physical contact, especially between men. Jack had spent over one hundred years waiting for the 21st century, when everything would change and he would be free to love whomever he fell for and to demonstrate it as came naturally to him. Now it was here, and it was getting more and more common to see two girls cuddled up together on the steps by the invisible lift, or two guys holding hands across a table in a pub. For Jack, who loved freely, openly and demonstratively, it was a beautiful freedom.

Or it should have been.

Some days, when Ianto drew away from the slightest public gesture, Jack wondered if it was worth it. Not just trying to initiate contact, but trying the relationship at all. He needed more. It hurt every time Ianto pulled away from him, and the other man still hadn't noticed.

He was perfectly happy to snuggle in bed, basking in the afterglow, and he didn't always pull away after; staying in the bunker made certain of that, because there was nowhere to pull away to, unless he left completely, which he had shown no inclination to do. He would even hug Jack after work once the others were gone, as long as he got to delete any footage, or lie on the sofa at Ianto's flat with his head in Jack's lap. But the slightest hint of openness in front of anyone else and Ianto would flinch away. Any physical contact would either scare him off or put him in a mood for hours – and Jack hadn't figured out which, yet.

It was one of those occasions. Ianto had had a too-close brush with the business end of a Maldnass Triton Blaster, and Jack had (apparently) been too affectionate when he'd helped him up and checked him over; he'd crossed whatever boundary Ianto had set this week. One day, he'd learn to hold it back, to wait until they were alone to assure himself that he'd not lost him yet. He just didn't know if it would be soon enough.

Ianto came in with a tray full of mugs and Jack sighed before he could stop himself, earning him a disapproving glare and a silently delivered cup of coffee. He picked it up and returned his attention to his report, rather than acknowledge Ianto's disappointed disapproval.

As soon as he was gone, Jack threw down his pen and sipped his coffee. It was slight wrong, not sweet enough. If he hadn't given in to his concern, Ianto would have brought him slightly sweet, slightly milky coffee, and stayed long enough for them to enjoy their break in each other's company. Denied both, Jack reached for the Glen Fiddich instead and poured himself a double measure, mixing it with just enough water, because he wasn't prepared to cross the Hub to get it.

Owen pushed the door open with a shoulder and waved a file at him. "I've got Ianto's report," he announced by way of greeting.

Jack saluted him with the whiskey and gestured to the chair. "Good thing I've got a drink, then. Have a seat."

He shouldered the door shut and set his mug on the desk, then dropped the report in front of Jack and sat down. "It's cuts and bruises," he explained without preamble. "Mostly bruises from the shockwaves, cuts from debris. The biggest causes for concern are mild bruising to his ribs on his left, and that stick up his arse. The bruises will heal, not sure what we can do about the stick."

Jack laughed and shook his head, picking up the report to scan through it. "As long as it's not going to impact on his ability to work, I don't care. He's good to come in tomorrow?"

"Yes you do, Jack," Owen argued. "Look, the one thing you promised me when the two of you got together was that it wouldn't impact on your work, and it is doing."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Really? How?"

"He gets in a snip and goes down to the Archives," Owen admitted. "He gets loads done down there, but that's not the point. It's still impacting on your work. Because you do exactly the same up here, nursing your ego."

"You nearly admitted that I have a heart, didn't you?" Jack shook his head. "Fine, I'll get on with chatting up UNIT, and I'll tell Ianto that he's to do less work as soon as he's speaking to me again."

"It's not funny, Jack," Owen stood up and made for the door, stopping with his hand on the handle. "One of these days, one of you is going to get seriously hurt, and I've got money on it being you. We need to be able to rely on you. Deal with it, or ditch him."

Jack frowned at the closing door. "Yeah, like that would help."

He'd still failed to broach the topic three days later, and everyone was much happier for it. The team was working like a well-oiled machine, tracking, stalking and trapping the Stirru that had gone to ground in the ornamental gardens. He and Owen had got it cornered and tranquillised, and the blood was pouring from the deep gash across his stomach, staining his hands and shirt red, braces hanging freely because they'd been cut through by the wicked blade on the end of its tail, blood still pouring, so much blood...

Owen was supporting him and guiding him down to lie on the gravel, steering his head past the low wall. Jack didn't know why, he'd rather have knocked himself out on the unforgiving concrete than feel again the agony of bleeding out. Already he was light-headed and his vision was blurry – how deep had it cut? What had it hit? Owen's voice was sharp, calling for Ianto. Jack just hoped that they'd leave him and Ianto in peace, he didn't want to revive alone again.

–

He kept his fingers against Jack's pulse until Ianto arrived at a run, summoned by his curt orders, then pulled away to give Ianto space. "He's still with us, but only just. We'll deal with Meowth, you deal with him."

Ianto dragged his gaze away from Jack and shook his head. "No, it's okay, it's my job. I'll get the SUV and..."

Owen's hand closed around his biceps. "He is dying, Ianto. You can pretend that none of us knows, that it's your little secret, but I'm not going to let him suffer in death just because you're too stubborn, or too proud, or whatever the fuck it is that's got your head stuck up your arse, to go to him if we're here. We'll move the cat, you make sure our captain doesn't come back alone."

Ianto swallowed and licked his dry lips. "You know?"

Owen shoved him away with a sharp laugh. "I've known since I called you his part-time shag. You weren't fooling anyone, and neither was he." His voice softened as the girls arrived, "Go on, that's what your purpose is here now. You're his."

In a sort of trance that allowed him to process the revelations, Ianto sat down beside Jack's head and pulled him up, cradling him in his arms and stroking his hair back. Jack's face was already pale and drawn, and Ianto knew that he wouldn't regain consciousness until he returned from death, but he kept stroking his face, ignoring everything else.

His. Jack's. His what? Boyfriend, partner, Jeeves, man Friday, batman, boy? All of the above? Owen was right, though. Whatever his official job title was, and he wasn't even sure of that these days, his true job was in holding their captain together. He was fairly sure he knew the name for that.

Jack gasped in his arms and Ianto braced him automatically, cradling his head against his own shoulder and tightening his arms to control his struggles. It didn't take long for Jack to calm and turn into Ianto's arms, drawing shuddering breaths and huddling closer. He always seemed so much smaller when he had just revived, especially when he was clinging to Ianto and hiding from the world. Ianto kissed his forehead impulsively, a little daringly, and closed his eyes to stop himself from checking to see if anyone was watching.

–

Ianto's hands were clasped loosely between his knees when Jack approached him, and he looked up to accept the mug of tea that Jack offered. "Thanks."

"No, thank you," Jack said softly, sitting next to him on the lumpy sofa.

"What for?"

"For being there for me today," Jack didn't look up at him. "I know you don't like to show in public that we're together."

Ianto shrugged and sipped his tea to give himself a pause. "It's my job," he said at last.

Jack sighed and hunched over his tea more. "Ow. I know I joke about being a perk of the job, but really..." he tried and failed a grin at Ianto over his shoulder, "I didn't realise I was just part of the job."

He swallowed hard. "Owen said it, I'm yours. It might be a role I... enjoy; but it's still part of my duties."

"Right," Jack stared into his mug again. "I don't... I hope Owen didn't mean it like that. That makes me sound like a part of the furniture."

"You're more than that, Jack," Ianto insisted.

"Really?" Jack snapped bitterly. "It's been a long time since I felt like it."

"Jack..."

"No, that's wrong," Jack shook his head and sighed. "It's been a long since I felt like that except with you. I really thought... I thought we were different, Ianto. But if you were just with me for Torchwood..." his voice dropped to a whisper, "I feel like I raped you."

"No! Jack, no. Don't ever think that," Ianto reached across and gripped Jack's hand. "I'm with you because I want to be. I always have been."

Jack turned his hand over and Ianto laced their fingers together. "Still with me?"

"If you still want me," he confirmed hesitantly.

"I do," Jack looked up at him. "You're all I've got, you know? All I've got that isn't Torchwood. You keep me fighting."

"That's why I don't want who we are as Torchwood to get entangled as who we are after hours," Ianto explained, rubbing his thumb over the back of Jack's hand. "I didn't want the team to see me as... as your whore."

"I don't need a whore," Jack assured him softly. "I need a friend."

"A boyfriend?" Ianto guessed, looking up to search Jack's face.

Jack sucked in a breath and released it slowly before answering, "Yes."

Ianto nodded and thought this over. "Does this mean that I should introduce you to my mum?"

"Do you want to?"

"No," Ianto said carefully. "She's mad as a hatter. She'll knit you gloves with two thumbs... Yes, I want to introduce you to my mum."

Jack smiled. "I'd love to meet your mum. One can never have too many pairs of... two-thumbed gloves," he laughed. "Are we okay?"

"Yeah, I think we are," Ianto bit his lip. "I might still be weird about... affection in front of the team. It's a bit ingrained by now, but I'll try."

"And I'll try to stay professional when we're on the clock," Jack promised. "Unless you get hurt, in which case all bets are off."

"I'll try not to get hurt so often, then," Ianto conceded with a smile, "and get used to accepting hugs when I need them. We'll be okay." He released Jack's hand and thumped his knee. "And stop dying on me!"

Jack laughed and caught his chin to kiss him softly. "It was worth it this time," he pointed out, preventing any further debate by turning his single-minded attention to kissing Ianto senseless.


End file.
